


How Ardently I Admire

by Avacyn



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Charles is a little flirt, Enemies to Lovers, Erik is such an idiot, Hank is a shy sweetheart, Logan tries his best, M/M, Slow Build, Well not so much Enemies to Lovers so much as Erik being a jerk and then regretting it later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:24:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avacyn/pseuds/Avacyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But Charles,” Raven said, through a mouthful of breakfast, “everyone knows that if a young, single, super-rich alpha lets a house in town, he must be looking for an omega!”</p><p>Pride and Prejudice AU with Alpha/Omega dynamics - not rated yet but will later contain explicit sexual content.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might seem weird at first that Hank is Charles' and Raven's brother, but trust me. The plot demands it and it ends up making sense after a while! I promise! 
> 
> Please enjoy!!!! <3

The days were slowly getting warming at Westchester. It was easier to get up in the mornings, and the afternoons were often pleasant enough for walking.

The sun was already coming into the breakfast room, and Charles was already disagreeing with his sister. Hank, their brother, was wisely keeping out of it.

 “I just don’t know if we should get so excited about this,” Charles said as he poured the tea.

“But Charles,” Raven said, through a mouthful of breakfast, “everyone knows that if a young, single, super-rich alpha lets a house in town, he must be looking for an omega!”

The news had just come to the Xavier family that a wealthy (and reportedly handsome) alpha had leased a house in their own neighbourhood.  This news was of significant interest to Mrs Xavier, not only because of her preoccupation with local gossip, but because of her desire to see her three omega children married well. To Charles' dismay, she was already counting on one of them marrying this new young man.

  
Charles looked over to his brother Hank, but Hank diplomatically remained quiet, taking another bite of breakfast instead of joining the conversation.  Charles continued anyway. “Raven, he’s an alpha. He is _not_  necessarily in want of an omega. I've explained this to you before - even if he does want to marry, he'll be absolutely spoiled for choice." He looked up at her. "There are far too many eligible omegas in Meryton, and not enough alphas wealthy enough to support them.”

Raven - blonde hair, round cheeks, pretty as a picture - pouted. " I'm going to try to marry him anyway," she said, helping herself to the jam. "You need to change your attitude if you want an alpha."

Hank tried and failed to conceal a grin.

"Hank, back me up here," Charles said, frowning.

"It's true," Hank said. "You should listen to him, Raven."

Charles spoke the truth. Their father, Mr Brian Xavier, was a gentleman and alpha of good social standing, and the family lived comfortably, but their home and remaining fortune was entailed away to their father’s closest alpha relative. Raven still found courtship a delightful game; happily, her personality and beauty should secure her the future her mother wanted for her. Hank and Charles were certainly handsome, too, but Charles knew that they’d be damned to poverty if they did not marry well. Despite Raven’s lightheartedness, Charles was far from able to treat marriage as a game. He was still young enough, and still hoped to find an alpha who was agreeable as well as wealthy, but he was also  more than aware that those hopes could potentially be disappointed.

 “Well,” said Mrs Xavier, excitement unaffected by Charles’ more realistic approach to the situation, “Mrs Long said he is to be at the assembly next week! Henry, you will have to wear your navy coat, it brings out your eyes best.”

Hank looked up from his breakfast, blinking. “Of course, Ma’am.” Hank was the middle Xavier child, with the mildest temper . He was intelligent, but never unkind; Charles, on the other hand, had a sharp tongue as well as a quick mind, and while he was very sarcastic, he was a better judge of character. They were only a year apart in age, and close friends as well as brothers.

Raven, the youngest, was temperamental, and sometimes over-indulged by their mother. She had by far the most exuberant personality of the three of them. Charles had been embarrassed at times by her forward manner and her overfamiliarity with acquaintances, and often exasperated by her carelessness with money. Still, she was his baby sister, and he was deeply fond of her when he was not worried or embarrassed by her; she was warm, and kind, and just as much of an extrovert as he was himself. He found it in himself now to be amused rather than concerned over her enthusiasm. _Let her be young_ , he thought to himself, and then, _my goodness, I sound like a tired old man_. Laughing at himself, he finished his cup of tea, and wondered idly if the new alpha really was handsome. 

 

Within two days, their father - at the insistence of his wife - had called upon their new neighbour, a Mr Howlett, and Mrs Xavier was happily flustered, asking him to consider when they might see him next and if he might be invited to dinner, so that they could be properly introduced.

“It must be soon,” she said, fretful, “for I wish him to be introduced to the children before the ball.” There was a dance to be held about a fortnight away. “And you know, my dear Raven, I would procure any introduction if I thought the acquaintance might be promising, for your sake. My love, I dare say Mr Howlett will dance with you at the next ball, even if you are the youngest.”

Raven smiled. “Even if I am the youngest, I am almost as tall as Hank, and certainly taller than Charles.”  The rest of the evening was spent wondering when Mr Howlett would return Mr Xavier’s visit, and how soon they should ask him to come to dinner, and exactly how everyone should be dressed in this happy instance. Charles was made to try on different waistcoats and ties, and Hank was persuaded to leave his wildlife journals in order to let Raven try "just a few styles" in his hair.

 

Despite how much their mother asked him, and Raven too, and Charles, and eventually, in his quiet way, even Hank, their father would not give them any satisfactory description of Mr Howlett. After a time they were forced to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Mrs McTaggart, whose husband Sir William McTaggart had apparently been thoroughly delighted with Mr Howlett when he had recieved him at their home.

“He is young, I hear,” Mrs Xavier said to Raven and Charles after her visit to Mrs McTaggart, “and wonderfully handsome, and extremely agreeable. As for the ball – he intends to be there – and to bring a large party with him!”

“Well, if he is fond of dancing, he must certainly be ready to fall in love,” Charles said, a little sarcastically, but his mother did not pick up on this and instead readily agreed with him.

“My dears, if I could just have one of you married to Mr Howlett, and settled at Netherfield, and the other two of you equally well-married, I should have nothing left to wish for.”

 

Mr Howlett remained a popular topic of conversation at the Xavier house over the next few days. When he came to return their father’s visit, Raven, Hank and Charles positioned themselves at an upstairs window, and although they could not see much of him, they agreed that he had been wearing a green coat, and riding a black horse, and seemed to have a fine head of hair and a powerful build. This was almost enough for them all to be satisfied with for the time, although Raven was impatient to see his face. Their father reported that he had excellent manners and made good conversation, and was certainly a gentleman; and their mother reminded them that they would meet him soon, for a date had been set to have him for dinner.

 

Charles had really just begun to look forward to meeting Mr Howlett when his hopes were disappointed, for a time. The dinner plans were abruptly cancelled when word arrived that Mr Howlett had had to leave, at once, to go to London. Mrs Xavier was upset by this, worried that Mr Howlett would perhaps always be going hither and thither and thus unable to really become acquainted with the charms of one of her children. However, after a time she allowed herself to be comforted a little by what her friend Mrs Long had suggested – that perhaps Mr Howlett had gone to London to fetch his party for the ball. The thought of yet more eligible alphas for her omega children soothed Mrs Xavier’s nerves, and she occupied herself by getting Hank to dress in his blue waistcoat, and Charles in his red and then his green instead, and satisfying herself that they were handsome enough for the ball; and three whole afternoons were spent choosing Raven’s dress and making sure that it still fitted her well in every place.

Privately Charles did really look forward meeting Mr Howlett, and the rest of his party. Recently, life at Westchester had been too quiet for even his taste; and - who knew - perhaps one of Mr Howlett's friends would take an interest in him when they met him. Charles could only hope.


	2. The Proudest, Most Disagreeable Man in the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!! Thank you all for the kudos <3 I changed Chapter One around a little, I was a bit unhappy with the tense and the prose style, I think it's a bit more comfortable to read now.

Mr Logan Howlett was a short man, with a thick head of hair, and though his brow was often creased, he did not seem to really be the surly type – he had excellent, unaffected manners, was quick to smile, and he greeted each new acquaintance with real warmth and enthusiasm upon being introduced.  
He had brought with him some friends from London - two alphas named Yuriko Oyama and Warren Worthington, and Mr Worthington's wife, Miranda. Also with them was Mr Howlett's mother’s daughter-in-law, whom he called his sister – a widowed omega named Emma Frost. Yuriko and Emma were very fashionably dressed, and not quite as friendly as Mr Howlett. Mrs Miranda Worthington seemed a quiet woman; she was blonde and not unattractive, looked to be enough of a gentlewoman, and was otherwise unremarkable.

  
The last member of their party, however, was quickly agreed to be very decidedly remarkable. Mr Lensherr was an alpha who drew and held the attention of the assembly with his fine, tall figure, his handsome features, and his noble demeanour. If his expression had seemed initially too proud or too severe, it was soon forgiven once it had circulated around the room that Mr Lensherr had an income of ten thousand pounds a year. He was very much admired by all who attended, until about halfway through the evening, when it became gradually apparent that neither his money nor his looks could make up for his unbearable pride. He danced once with Mrs Worthington, and once with Miss Frost, and then, declining to be introduced to any other omega, spent the rest of the evening walking around the room, with a cold expression on his face, occasionally talking to one of the party he had come with but no-one else.

  
Charles found himself obliged to sit out for one of the dances, as there were more omegas than alphas. Mr Lensherr had declined to dance this set, and Mr Howlett left the dance for a few moments to try and persuade his friend to join them.

  
“Erik. I really wish you would dance,” he chided. “You look more stupid than dignified, to be standing around like this. Have another drink and try not to be so damn miserable.” He slapped Mr Lensherr on the arm. "There's no point being here if you're not going to dance.”

Charles, focusing on their conversation, could just about make it out, although he sat too far away for them to suppose he could be within earshot. He felt a swell of gratitude at Mr Howlett’s words; indeed, Mr Lensherr did look stupid, and clearly had no thought for the feelings of those wishing for a partner.

“Logan," Mr Lensherr replied, "you know I hate to dance unless I know the person I am dancing with. Miranda and Emma are both engaged, and there is no other omega in the room with whom I could bear to stand up.”  
  
“I have never met so many pleasant omegas in my life as I have tonight,” Mr Howlett said, emphatic. “Erik, you’re either blind or stupid. Or both. Several of these omegas at least are uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome omega in the room,” Mr Lensherr replied. “And I note that you have danced with him twice, now.”

Mr Howlett smiled. “Mr Henry Xavier. You are correct; he is the most lovely creature I ever beheld, and I hope to dance with him a third time if his card is not already full. But his brother is sitting just along there, I think; Charles Xavier. He is pretty enough even for you, Erik, surely; and I expect very agreeable too. Let me ask Henry to introduce you.”

Charles looked over; he could not help it, and was a little startled to see Mr Lensherr’s cold grey eyes staring back at him, steadily. Charles averted his gaze, trying to appear undisturbed and collected, and trying not to blush.

“He is tolerable,” said Mr Lensherr, still thinking himself out of hearing, or perhaps not caring that Charles might hear, “but he is not handsome enough to tempt me. Besides, I am not in the mood to give consequences to omegas who have been slighted or overlooked by other alphas. You had better return to your partner, Logan, and enjoy those shy smiles of his; you are wasting your time with me.”

 “I’m always wasting my time with you,” Mr Howlett muttered, crossing back over to Hank, who was indeed smiling his usual shy smile, looking nervous but happy.

Charles was upset, of course, but managed to recover, turning the incident into an amusing episode which he recounted to his friends later in the evening. Ridiculousness always delighted Charles, and he readily agreed every time someone dismissed Mr Lensherr’s haughtiness as laughable and absurd.

Their father was still up when they returned from the ball, tired but still willing to hear about their first impressions of their new neighbour.

  
“We have had the most delightful evening!” Mrs Xavier exclaimed. “Raven was asked to dance every dance. Mr Howlett was struck with Henry right away, he asked to be introduced as soon as he saw him. And they danced two dances together, and I believe they would have danced a third but Henry was already engaged. And he danced with Charles as well, later on. Such a delightful man! So excessively handsome, so well dressed. He has a tendency to look stern, but he is never cross, I believe his face just rests like that. He danced a dance with Moira as well, you know, but I believe he liked Henry much more, Henry was the only one he asked twice – ”

“I almost wish he had broken his ankle and been unable to dance at all,” Mr Xavier replied, his patience wearing a little.

“Well, I will speak of another subject, then,” Mrs Xavier said, forced to move on. “You will like it much less. Mr Howlett’s friend, Mr Lensherr, proved himself to be a very rude and arrogant man. He was too proud to dance with Charles, although he could see Charles was in want of a partner for one of the dances. Instead he simply walked about the room, fancying himself so very serious and so very much above everyone else. Charles does not lose much by not appealing to Mr Lensherr’s fancy; in my opinion he is far too conceited a man to be bearable. Charles, not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”

Once everyone had said goodnight and gone to their own rooms, Hank came down the hall, and stood in Charles' doorway.

“Come in!” Charles gestured. “Shut the door, tell me about Mr Howlett.”

Hank closed the door, and seated himself next to Charles. “He’s a good man,” he said quietly, turning pink and adjusting his glasses. “So good-humoured and lively. And he has excellent manners.”

“He’s also very handsome,” Charles added, “which is, I think, another important element.”

“I never expected him to ask me to dance twice,” Hank murmured.

“Why not? I did. He could not help noticing that you’re about five times as lovely as any other omega there. Well, he is certainly very agreeable, and you _have_ liked stupider people.”

“Charles!”

“It’s true! You are far too inclined to like people. You never speak ill of anyone. Everyone is agreeable to you; that’s why you need me to find fault with people when you cannot.”

  
Well,” Hank replied, “I would never want to be too quick to criticise anyone; but I do always speak what I think.”

“I know you do,” said Charles. “That is the mystery. You have such good sense, Hank, but so often you are blind to the flaws and follies of others. Do you like Mr Howlett’s companions as well? Their manners are certainly not equal to his, you know.”

“Well,” said Hank, “perhaps not at first. But they are pleasant once you talk to them. Emma is widowed, you know; and she intends to live with her brother and help keep his house. They are not really siblings; I believe Logan’s halfbrother was married to Emma, before his death. But I don't think she is interested in Logan. She has enough money of her own, and their personalities don’t match at all. I think perhaps he forgets sometimes that she is an omega and not another alpha; at least, he gave that impression when he spoke of her." Hank adjusted his glasses. "Really, I expect she will make a very charming neighbour, Charles; you do not have to look so sour,” he teased gently.

Charles could not be convinced. The behaviour of the women at the assembly had not seemed calculated to please; and he had noted that they could be agreeable when they were of a mind to, but otherwise they both seemed too proud and too conceited. He had felt especially ill-at-ease when Miss Frost had looked over at him; something about her gaze had unnerved him, a look on her face that suggested she knew his mind. Perhaps she had perceived his initial attraction to Mr Lensherr; he hoped she had not, as he had been so slighted.

~ ~ ~

Erik had always acknowledged the opposition of character between himself and Logan, and tonight was no exception. Sometimes, in one of his tempers, he would ask himself why they were friends at all, and then Logan would slap him on the back and offer him a cigar, and smile at him, and accuse him of being the most miserable and insufferable man to ever live. Then Erik would find himself smiling a little despite himself, and would find himself realising that Logan was the only person he allowed to speak to him like that without consequence. He was too fond of Logan now to ever turn against him, even if they could never seem to share the same kind of thoughts.

“I just can’t believe how unsporting you had to be!” Logan exclaimed as soon as they were back Netherfield. “I declare, I’ve never met with pleasanter people, or prettier omegas in my entire life. There was no formality, no awkwardness, I was acquainted with everyone in the room in about five minutes. As for Henry Xavier –” He paused.

Erik glanced across at him and cursed internally. Logan looked infatuated. Deciding to get it over with, he asked, “As for Henry Xavier?”

“I couldn’t dream up a more beautiful creature,” Logan said, a little gruffly, looking down as he poured them a drink each.

“Well, I thought it was a horrid event. All I saw was a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no real fashion – typical of the rural gentility – and I had not even the smallest interest in any of them. I suppose Mr Xavier was pretty enough, but he blushed too easily and he smiled too often.”

“Erik, I believe you are right about the assembly as a whole,” Emma said before Logan could open his mouth, “but Henry is a sweet thing, even if he does smile too much, and Warren and I both admire him. I would not object to knowing more of him.”

Having received the sanction of Emma if not of Erik, Logan felt authorized to think of Hank as fondly as he chose, and encouraged Emma to invite Hank and his siblings to wait on her.

“I suppose you could be just happen to be passing by outside, or be coming through the parlour, if you knew when they would visit,” Emma said dryly.

“Precisely,” Logan replied, smiling and lighting another cigar. "Precisely so, Emma. And if Erik knew when they were visiting, he could take himself out of the house, away from the - what was it? - _little beauty and no real fashion_ they offer."

Erik glared. "I'll not take it back, Logan."

Logan smiled, and handed him a drink.


	3. An Object of Some Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY that it took me this long to write this and put it up - I will definitely update sooner next time, and I promise I will not abandon this fic.  
> Thank you for reading and sticking with it - I appreciate it.

“Well,” Logan asked her, “how was it?”

“Pleasant enough,” Emma replied.

Erik, standing across the room, frowned. “That sounds very reserved a review from you, Emma.”

“Well, the mother is a nervous, pandering idiot, and the daughter is far too forward; it was quite a trial to sit in their company the whole morning." Emma poured herself a drink at the mantle. "But Henry really does have the most pleasant manners imaginable. Did you know that he rides? I did wish you were there, Logan, I don’t know anything about horses. And the brother – Charles – seems slightly too sharp at times, always ready to make some witty remark, but I must say that aside from that his manners are excellent. He does have the good grace to seem embarrassed by his mother and his sister, when they prompt him into it. Which they often do.”

“I hope you were polite.”

“Of course I was, Logan, especially to Henry – did you know that they call him ‘Hank’? At least, his siblings do. For as long as you like him, I shall be polite to him, and his intolerable family.”

“And not a minute longer, I expect,” Erik muttered.

“I thought you didn’t mind Charles,” Logan said to Emma.

“I think perhaps I wouldn’t mind being better acquainted with him. I would certainly enjoy some intelligent company; he may be the best equipped omega in Meryton to provide it. And he is very lovely to look at.”

“Careful, Emma, I thought we’d established that Charles Xavier has hardly a good feature in his face.” Logan grinned over at Erik. “Isn’t that what you said?”

 Emma laughed, not entirely kindly. “That is what he said, and bullied us all into concurring.”

 “Well, Erik, you may re-evaluate your opinion soon if you wish – we are invited to dine with the McTaggarts on Thursday, and the Xaviers will also be there,” Logan said.

Emma smiled.

Erik gritted his teeth. He had no wish for company, and certainly no wish to see Charles Xavier.

Meryton being the small neighbourhood that it was, their paths had already crossed more than once in the last few weeks, at dinners and suppers. Charles had mostly ignored him, speaking with his friends or family; and more than once Erik had felt sure that he himself must be their topic of conversation. “Not handsome enough to tempt me,” he had heard Charles say once, in a mocking voice, to the group of omegas he was with, and he knew that Charles had meant him to hear it when he looked over his shoulder at Erik, eyes full of amusement as his friends dissolved into laughter. Erik, standing alone by the window, had finished his drink and gone in search of another, trying not to be irritated, trying not to dwell on how well Charles’ breeches fitted. He would not allow himself to even entertain those kind of thoughts; Erik made a point of never going back on his own judgments. Even if this principle were ever broken, it would not be broken by some self-satisfied rural omega with passable thighs.

Erik had no wish to see Charles Xavier again.

 

 ~        ~        ~

 

“But it’s obvious that Mr Howlett admires Hank,” Moira said. “It’s very obvious.”

Charles sighed, and put down his teacup. “I know, Moira, but that’s not what I meant; the problem is that Hank doesn't appear to admire Mr Howlett as much.”

“But he does! Charles, of course he does. You know he does.”

“I know he does, and you know, but that’s only because we know Hank, we know what he’s like. He’s shy. He is always sweet, always cheerful. And of course, it might be better for people to think him only a little interested, if for some reason it goes wrong, but if he doesn’t show a little more affection, Mr Howlett might never realise that… well…”

“That Hank is a little in love with him.”

“Yes.” Frowing, Charles finished his tea.

“So Hank needs to be a bit more open, to help Mr Howlett along.”

“That’s the thing, Moira – Hank’s already helping Mr Howlett along, at least as much as his nature will allow him to. He’s not like Raven, he’s not confident or free with his expression – granted, Raven can be a little too free, but Hank is perhaps not free enough.”

“Surely if I can see that Hank is in love, Mr Howlett must see it too. He would be an idiot not to.”

“He doesn’t know Hank like we do.”

“If Hank continues the way he is, not concealing anything, Mr Howlett must find out. He will have to notice it. He would have to be blind, Charles, _not_ to notice.”

Charles sighed. “I hope you are right. Maybe if they see enough of each other. We are always in such large parties; they only get a few half-hours of conversation each time.”

“Maybe that would be enough, enough for Mr Howlett to to feel more certain; and then once they are married they can spend all the time in the world falling in love.”

“Hank doesn’t want to be married right away, though. If I wanted a rich alpha – or any alpha – then I’m sure I would do as you suggest – charm them quickly and then marry them before either of us really had time to decide otherwise.”

“They have spent some time together already,” Moira said. “Maybe Mr Howlett is more enamoured than you think.”

“All they’ve really been able to learn about each other is that they both like horses, they both prefer vignt-un to commerce or whist, they both like walking outdoors, and neither of them can play the piano.”

Moira smiled. “Have some hope, Charles. You sound absolutely hopeless. Both of them will be at my father’s dinner tomorrow night; I’ll sit them across from each other at dinner, and I’ll have the card tables brought out as early as possible, so that they may both play vignt-un and talk about riding.”

“And how are you and I going to entertain ourselves?”

“ _Well_ ," Moira said with her beautiful white smile, "I know some of the good wine has been brought up from the cellar.”

Charles grinned back. “Moira, I’m almost sure that you know my character a little too well.”

 

 ~         ~          ~

 

 

Displeased with how the evening was passing, and wishing to be back at Netherfeld, Erik stood in a corner of the room, wondering how soon he could leave. They had come in Logan’s carriage. Logan was – predictably – playing vignt-un with Henry Xavier, both of them laughing and gazing at each other and somehow finding excuses to touch each other’s hands when dealing or collecting up the cards.

Erik had no wish for Logan to marry; he suspected things would be less amusing and more domestic if Logan settled down.

Besides, if Logan were to marry Henry, Erik would have to see more of his unbearable family.

He glanced around the room. Charles was with a group of people, laughing and conversing, holding a glass of wine. Of course, Erik had made it clear to himself that Charles had hardly a good feature in his face, but as he looked over at the conversation, he was forced to admit that Charles did look strikingly intelligent as he spoke. It was his eyes, that was all; light and expressive, and creasing at the corners as he laughed.

Erik made his way over to them, slowly, drawn almost against his will, trying very hard not to actually look at Charles and telling himself he was only doing it because there was nothing better to do. He stood on the edge of the group for a moment, attending to the conversation but not speaking himself.

After a minute he was noticed, by Miss McTaggart, who caught his eye for a moment and seemed to decide to act upon this.

She nudged Charles a little, and glancing again at Erik, said “Perhaps Mr Lensherr has some thoughts on this, Charles.”

Turning toward him, Charles immediately caught his eye and said, “Well, Mr Lensherr, don’t you agree that I expressed myself very well, just now, when suggesting to Colonel Forster that he should host a ball at Meryton?”

“Certainly, Mr Xavier; you were most energetic, but the subject of dancing always makes an omega energetic.”

Charles smiled, eyes narrowing. “You are too severe with us, Mr Lensherr; but of course, we already know that you are never one to moderate your views.”

“Come, Charles, you are teasing him.” Moira looked over again, not in an unfriendly way. “You may tease him in return in a moment, Mr Lensherr. I am about to open the piano, and he can almost always be convinced to play.”

“You are a strange kind of friend, Moira, always wanting me to play and sing in front of everyone. I am sure I would be grateful to you if I was vain about my musical abilities, but as it is, I would rather not sit down and play for all these people. Especially as Mr Lensherr is here, and I am sure he is used to only the very best kinds of entertainment. My unpolished country airs will certainly not be up to his standards.” Here he shot Erik another sly look, as if daring him to make a remark. Despite himself, Erik wanted to smile.

“Why don’t you sit down at the piano, and I’ll get you another drink,” Moira said.

“That sounds more agreeable, if it really must be so.”

The wine was brought over. Charles, seated, turned his head to catch Erik’s eye, and said, “There is a saying around these parts, Mr Lensherr, which you may take note of: ‘keep your breath to cool your porridge.’ I shall keep mine to swell my song.” He turned back, and began to play.

He played well, and sang well; Erik was irritated. It was increasingly more difficult for him to find real faults in Charles’ character, as much as he tried.

Soon enough Charles had given up the piano to another, more eager omega, who at the request of some of the others (not least among them Raven Xavier) was playing more lively songs fit for dancing to.

Erik, standing nearby and preferring to have some more brandy than to dance, was lost in his own thoughts. After a few minutes he was approached by Sir Lucas McTaggart, and did not notice him until it was too late to move away.

“How charming it is to see young people dancing, Mr Lensherr!” he said. “I consider it one of the finest refinements of decent society.”

“Certainly, sir; and I believe less decent societies enjoy it as well; every savage can dance.”

Sir Lucas smiled. “Your friend is doing a delightful job,” he said, gesturing towards Logan, who was of course dancing with Henry Xavier. “I am sure you are adept enough yourself, Mr Lensherr.”

“I should hope so, but I avoid it when I can.”

“Is that so? Well… But there is young Mr Xavier, quite nearby, and I am sure you would make a fine couple… Charles!” he called out. “My dear Charles, do come over here.”

Charles approached, empty glass in hand. “Actually, Sir Lucas, I was just –”

“Charles, my dear boy, why are you not dancing? Mr Lensherr, you must allow me to present this young omega to you as a very desirable  partner. I am sure you cannot refuse to dance when such beauty is here and ready before you.” He took Charles’ hand, as if to give it to Erik.

Erik, a little startled but not – to his surprise – actually unwilling to accept, was about to put out his hand when Charles drew back, looking a little flustered.

“Indeed, Sir William, I have not the least intention of dancing. I was merely passing in order to refill my glass.”

Erik told himself that it was propriety and not real desire which prompted him to say, “Mr Xavier, I request to be allowed the honour of your hand.”

“Really, Charles, you are such an excellent dancer that it is cruel to deny me this happiness of seeing you dance; and although this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, I am sure he will not object to obliging me.”

“Mr Lensherr is all politeness,” Charles said, smiling at Erik in a way that did not seem quite sincere.

“Certainly he is! But this acquiesce is surely not remarkable – for who would ever object to having you as a partner?”

“Who indeed?” Charles shot Erik a knowing look, and turned away.

 Sir Lucas grumbled a little, and moved off towards the dancers.

Erik took a deep breath, considering Charles’ retreating figure. He tried to be offended, but instead, it was admiration that forced itself to the fore. He admired Charles’ pride, and his wit. And – Charles had taken off his coat at some point in the evening – his waist.

And like the other night, his breeches did fit very well.

He was trying very hard to behave like a gentleman and _not_ to stare at Charles Xavier’s ass when Emma came over.

“I can guess what it is you’re considering,” she said.

“I should really be considering the question of ‘where has Ms Frost been all evening?’”

“I was entertaining myself. With the help of an officer and some brandy,” Emma said primly, in her beautiful white dress.

Erik snorted.

“You’re thinking about how unbearable it would be to pass many more evenings in this kind of manner, and this kind of company. I must say I agree with you; everyone is so noisy, so self-important. It’s quite horrible. I wish we could get Logan away from here.”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I must tell you. My mind was very agreeably engaged. I have been considering all the merits of a fine pair of eyes in the face of a very pretty omega.”

She turned and looked at him, frowning. “I certainly did not expect to hear that. So your evening has been productive. And which omega is it?”

Summoning some courage and preparing to steel himself against her reaction, he said after a moment, “Mr Charles Xavier.”

Emma stared. After another moment passed, and Erik said nothing further, she repeated, “Charles Xavier.”

“I simply noticed that he has very fine eyes,” Erik said evenly.

“Well. I suppose in good time you and Logan will be married to one each and their ghastly mother will come and live with you at Pemberley.”

“How your imagination jumps from one thing to another, Emma.”

Emma entertained herself all the way home by presenting to him various future scenarios in which he was forced to attend assemblies and interact with Charles’ family; and Erik, knowing it was best to seem completely indifferent, let her enjoy her own wit unchecked.


	4. An Abominable Sort of Conceited Independence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I didn't update for such a long time. Thanks so much to those who commented asking for an update!!! This is for you <3 thank you for still reading & giving me the momentum to keep going with this. I don't have a beta reader; I apologize for any mistakes in spelling or syntax!

 

It was now a week since the party at the McTaggarts’. The Xavier household was, for the most part, quiet. Hank had been spending the greater part of his time either reading or going out riding, sometimes with their father; he had mentioned Mr Howlett only a few times, mostly relating some relevant comment or opinion, and he blushed whenever the name came up, always ready to agree with anyone who praised him. Charles was quite sure that Hank was still decidedly taken with Mr Logan Howlett.

Westchester was only so quiet because it was very often empty of late. There was a militia regiment newly arrived in Meryton, using the village as their base; naturally, Raven was now determined to visit their aunt in Meryton every day of the week, often bringing their mother with her. She returned home each day with a little more information on one officer or another, their names and connections, ready to describe the handsomest of them to Charles. He was a willing listener, for the most part, and so was their mother; the fortune and  consequence of Mr Howlett, to her mind, was hardly even glamorous at all when compared with the many attractive and elegible alphas of an ensign.

Charles had taken advantage of the quiet in the house to attend to some correspondence. One letter was for Jean Grey; she was a friend of the family - the Xaviers had made her acquaintance a few years ago while holidaying at Bath. She and Charles, particularly, had become closely acquainted, and kept up a correspondence. Their shared many interests, and their minds seemed to work along similar lines. Jean was married now, and lived in London with her omega husband, Scott. Charles enjoyed the letters they exchanged; he hoped that he and Jean would meet again someday. Perhaps, when he was married, he could travel – although, he thought, this was his third year as an eligible omega, and he hadn’t yet met an alpha with whom he really felt he could be content.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Charles loved his sister dearly, but since returning from a visit to their aunt this morning, she had spoken of nothing but a captain named LeBeau, and Charles found his patience steadily declining.

“He is uncannily skilled at cassino and commerce,” Raven said, “or so our aunt says; some other officers were telling her about their fortunes at the card-tables.”

Happily, Charles was granted a reprieve from this detailed account of Captain LeBeau, in the form of a letter which a servant had brought in for Hank.

“Who’s it from?” he asked, watching Hank read it.

“Miss Frost,” Hank replied, eyes scanning the page.

“What does she say?” Raven asked, trying to snatch it off him.

Hank moved it out of her reach. “She asks me to visit, as soon as I receive this, to be her guest for lunch. Mr Howlett and Mr Lensherr are to dine with the officers, and Yuriko and the Worthingtons are returned to London.”

“Dining with the officers! Today! Our aunt did not mention _that_ to me,” Raven interrupted. “Where will they dine, I wonder?”

“It is unlucky that Mr Howlett will not be there to see you himself, Henry,” Mrs Xavier added.

Hank folded the letter, and looked at Charles, with a small, quiet smile which meant that he was pleased to have been invited. “I suppose I will have to go on horseback; Father cannot spare me the carriage.”

Their mother, naturally, was delighted to confirm that the carriage could not be spared. “The weather is set to be terrible today! It will rain and you will be forced to spend the night there.”

“That would be a very good scheme of yours, Mother, if they were not likely to just send Hank back in their own carriage,” Charles replied.

“But Mr Howlett and Mr Lensherr might stay in Meryton, and keep the carriage with them!” Raven suggested, delighted. “Then Hank would certainly have to stay, and wait for Mr Howlett’s return!”

Charles sighed. “We do not live in a romantic novel, Raven, only Hertfordshire. Hank will be back for dinner.”

They all went to the door to farewell him; Charles, privately, hoped that Hank would fare well enough when alone with Miss Frost; Hank could be painfully shy sometimes, and although Miss Frost had never been rude to either of them, Charles could not warm to her, and did not entirely like her. But Hank had a sweeter disposition than Charles, really, and Charles could at least hope that Miss Frost would be kinder to Hank because of this.

As Mrs Xavier pulled Hank close to kiss his cheek, she continued to remark, cheerfully, on what a dreadful day it was certain to be; she seemed very sure that she would not see Hank until the next day, at least, and reminded him to smile at Mr Howlett at every opportunity.

It started to rain not five minutes after they’d settled back into the parlour. "What luck for Henry!” their mother exclaimed, delighted.

Charles bit his tongue, and took himself off to finish his letter to Jean.

It rained all night.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The rain had stopped by the morning. Charles had barely finished his breakfast when a servant from Netherfield arrived, bringing him a note from Hank.

“My dear Charles,  
I find myself a little unwell this morning; I am afraid I was caught in the rain yesterday, and now I have a chill. Miss Frost will not hear of my returning home until I am better, and has insisted that the doctor come as well, to see me. Do not be alarmed, though; I have only a slightly sore throat, and a headache, nothing terrible, and Miss Frost has been unfailingly kind and hospitable.  
Yours, Henry.”

Charles read the note aloud to his mother and Raven, and finished by saying, “Well, I must go and see him. As soon as I can.”

Their mother seemed delighted that her son had been thrown into Mr Howlett’s path in this manner, rather than concerned at the news that he was unwell. “Oh, Charles, he will not die of a head-cold. It will be very well for him to stay at Netherfield!” she exclaimed. “We may be able to have the carriage tomorrow, and so we might go and see Henry then.”

Charles shook his head. “I will see him this morning. I will walk there myself.” He could not help feeling anxious for Hank; his note sounded cheerful enough, but Hank was given to aggressively understating – or entirely dismissing – any of his own illnesses or misfortunes, out of a sort of misplaced consideration for others.

Their mother exclaimed in horror. “Walk! All that way to Netherfield! Charles, how can you be so silly! I wish you had learned to ride better, and then you might go on horseback. I forbid you to walk, in all this dirt. You will not be fit to be seen when you arrive!”

“I don’t want to be seen, I just want to see Hank,” Charles said, angered by her priorities. “I shall be fit enough to see him, mother, which is all I want.”

“Surely you can’t mean to walk,” Raven said. “It really is a dreadfully long way.”

“It’s hardly more than three miles, and I will not be put off by your exaggerations, Raven, thank you,” Charles replied, trying not to snap. “In fact, I will set out presently.”

“Well then,” Raven said after a moment, “I will come with you as far as Meryton.”

Charles immediately regretted the sharp tone he had taken with her. “Thank you, Raven. It will be a much more enjoyable walk for your company. Mother, I am sure I will be back by dinner, it is not such a long way as you would both like to suppose, and then I can tell you how Henry is.”

Mrs Xavier accepted this, albeit with many murmurings about how reckless Charles was, and how his conduct would certainly one day cause her to have some sort of nervous fit. Many replies about Raven’s conduct around members of the recently-arrived militia regiment came to mind, but Charles held his tongue.

 

~          ~          ~

 

Their walk to Meryton was peaceful enough; Charles listened with amusement to Raven’s chatter about the officers currently there. He had not yet met any of them, and he found that hearing about them was almost like reading a novel, like hearing an account of fictional characters. Raven was absolutely preoccupied with the regiment.

“You know, Charles, if we were to hurry just a little, I expect I could meet Captain LeBeau before he goes. He and a few of his men are due to depart today.”

“I suppose we should hurry, then.”

When they reached the main road which stretched up to Meryton, Raven departed, and Charles continued his walk alone, cutting through the fields instead of taking the road that ran around the outside. This was a much shorter route, he knew. Charles often walked, with Moira or Hank, or by himself; he was familiar with the land between Westchester and Meryton, and the surrounds of the village. He made good time, and did not bother to walk around puddles or to avoid the stretches of longer grass; he was anxious to see Hank, and impatient to get out of the sun. At last, he found himself with a clear view of Netherfield; he slowed as he approached, becoming every minute more of how weary his legs were, and how dirty his trousers. Although he now felt a little trepidation about coming to Netherfield uninvited, Charles did not find himself at all concerned about whether he was ‘fit to be seen’.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Erik was alone in the drawing room, reading the newspaper, when a “Mr Charles Xavier” was announced by a servant. Startled, Erik put the paper down, just in time to see Charles being shown in. The servant closed the door behind him.

"Oh," Charles said. "Mr Lensherr."

Charles was breathing heavily, and his cheeks were flushed pink. Erik stared at him for a moment, and then tried not stare, looking at the floor instead. He cleared his throat. "Mr Xavier," he said, and then released he was still seated. Abruptly, he stood. "Please, come in"

Charles frowned. "I believe I am already in the room."

Feeling exceedingly pleased that Emma was not here to witness his utter stupidity, Erik struggled to gather his thoughts. Charles’ eyes were very bright; they looked even more blue than Erik had recalled. Forcing himself to converse like a competent adult, he said, "Of course. By all means, be seated, then."

Charles looked unimpressed. "Thank you, Mr Lensherr, but I am content to stand; I will not inconvenience you by staying much longer in your company. I only wish to see my brother."

Erik faltered. "Certainly." He wished that Logan would hurry up and join them.

The door opened behind Charles. "Mr Xavier!" Emma exclaimed, entering the room.

Charles jumped, surprised, and stepped aside for her.“Miss Frost,” he said.

She smiled at him, eyes glinting. “This is certainly a surprise; we have hardly finished breakfast.”

“I apologise for arriving without notice,” Charles replied, not looking at all apologetic. “I was impatient to see Hank.” He paused, still trying to catch his breath. “You will excuse me if my conversation leaves a little to be desired; I am a little out of breath from the walk.”

“From the walk?” Emma asked.

“Yes,” said Charles. “I walked.”

“From Westchester?” Emma exclaimed.

“Yes,” Charles said again.

“How far is Westchester, from here?” Erik asked.

Charles looked over at him. “Three miles or so.”

Erik could hardly believe this. To come such a long distance, unaccompanied, and at such an early hour – surely Henry was not ill enough to warrant such actions. He was not sure if he admired Charles’ devotion to his brother, or if instead he condemned this sort of rash behaviour. He tried very hard not to become further conflicted by Charles’ distractingly appealing complexion; Charles’ face was flushed pink from the exercise. It contrasted with the still-white skin of his neck. Charles had lovely skin.

Logan, when he entered, did not seem very surprised to see Charles there. “Mr Xavier. Good morning.”

“Mr Howlett. Forgive me making this visit without an invite. I set out as soon as I received Hank’s letter.”

“It must have been a very troubling letter,” Emma observed, hardly even trying to sound sincere.

“Hank is never willing to deliberately alarm or inconvenience anyone, even those who love him best,” Charles replied coolly, looking over at her. “So, you will understand that I did not wish to take him at his word. I instead wanted to be satisfied, myself, that his symptoms were only as mild as he claimed.” He paused, and looked to Logan. “How is he?”

Logan’s mouth tightened. “Less well than he seems to have let you believe. His throat is swollen, and paining him, and he has a fever. He slept very poorly; he was waking constantly in the night.”

Erik couldn’t help but notice how Charles’ lips thinned, how his shoulders slumped minutely.

Charles sighed. “I see.”

“I’ll take you to him now,” Logan said, and Charles nodded, following him out of the room.

“Quite extraordinary,” Emma remarked, sitting down. “Did you see the state of his clothing?”

“I didn’t look closely, no.” Erik's attention had been entirely held by Charles' countenance, but he would not mention _that_ to Emma.

“Mud everywhere. Like a little savage. He’ll be lucky to find himself an alpha if he continues to behave with such disregard for propriety.”

Erik, sitting back down in his chair, opened his newspaper but found himself entirely uninterested in it. “Admirable, really,” he said after a moment, “to come so far out of concern.”

Emma laughed a little. “Are you just trying to disagree with me, or is he truly something more than just a fine pair of eyes, now?”

Erik made no reply; it was often the wisest course of action with Emma.

“Did that hurt you, Erik?” she asked. “To compliment someone else’s character? It is so unlike you that I am sure you have injured yourself doing; it, I might have to ask the admirable Mr Xavier to nurse you back to health.”

“He will have enough work in nursing his brother. Let me read the paper, Emma.”

“Very well,” she said, smirking at him.

Again, Erik elected to ignore her. She would tire of this teasing in time, he was sure.

 

~          ~          ~

 

“Thank you, Mr Howlett, for receiving me at such an early hour, without notice,” Charles said, as they climbed the stairs.

“Not at all, Mr Xavier. And please, call me Logan.”

“Then you must call me Charles.”

“I will, Charles,” Logan replied, smiling briefly at him. “Henry is just down here…” Logan paused at a door near the end of the hall, and knocked gently. “May I come in?” he asked. Hank must have answered him, because he turned back and smiled at Charles, before opening the door and beckoning Charles with a jerk of his head.

“Charles!” Hank said, voice rasping, as he tried to sit up in bed.

Charles went straight to him. “Don’t get up,” he said, reaching out to touch Hank’s face with the back of his hand. “Oh, Hank, you look dreadful. You feel as though you’re burning.”

“I’ll be alright, Charles,” Hank replied. “Did you walk here? You really shouldn’t have. I’ve already been such a demand on Mr Howlett’s time and energy; I’d hate to demand yours, too.”

“My time was freely given,” Logan corrected, in his low growl of a voice. “I’m sure your brother is here out of concern rather than duty, just the same as me.”

Hank smiled a little at that, albeit weakly. He looked quite unwell.

“You would do well to listen to him,” Charles said. “The only inconvenience you could cause me would be through an understatement of your discomfort. I only want to be properly informed of how you are, Hank, so that I may care for you adequately.” He looked up at Logan.

Logan’s gaze was on Hank, but after a moment he looked back to Charles, and nodded his head. “Charles is right, Henry. I only ask that you allow me the privilege of providing you with everything I’m capable of giving.” He cleared his throat, and gave Hank another lingering glance before saying, “I will leave the two of you alone. Please don’t hesitate to ring for anything.” He nodded to both of them, and left.

Charles could not help but smile at Hank. “Logan is remarkably attentive.”

Hank smiled too. “I woke often in the night, and one of the housemaids attended to me – brought me water, a compress, laudanum for the headache – and I could hear him in the hall sometimes, asking her questions and pacing up and down. I really wish that he would have slept, instead, but perhaps he was too anxious.”

“How is your headache?”

“A little better, for now.”

“You are very warm,” Charles said, putting a hand on Hank’s brow. “You seem very weak, Hank. How is the fever? Do you think you could sleep again?”

Hank frowned. “The fever – I don’t know, Charles – it seems to come and go, it was worse in the night.”

“Try to sleep again,” Charles told him. “I’ll be here. Look, there are some books here by the window; I will be well able to pass the time until you wake again.”

Hank fell asleep after only a minute or two, certainly looking as though he would benefit from it.

Charles sat and read; he was quite content to do so, having at least been able to see for himself how his brother was, and having also been assured that Logan would provide Hank with the best of care.

Logan checked on them almost hourly; he seemed to be trying to conceal his anxiety, but Charles noticed the way that he scowled if Hank shifted in his sleep, the way his hands were never still. Charles felt very flattered on Hank’s behalf as he observed these little signs, and glad that if Hank had to be unwell while away from home, that he was in a place where no effort would be spared to aid his recovery.

“It will be time for dinner in a few hours,” Logan said, the fourth time he came past the room. He had been regarding Hank from the doorway for a full minute, and seemed to come back to himself.

Charles shifted in his chair. “I suppose I should really make my way back to Westchester,” he said, entirely unwilling to do so but not wishing to impose at Netherfield.

“Charles, I would… I would very much like for you to stay here for the present, if you would consent to,” Logan replied. “I know you would be a great comfort to Henry.”

Charles smiled widely, making no attempt to disguise his relief at this. “There is nothing I would appreciate more. Thank you, Logan.”

Logan sent one of his servants to Westchester to inform Mrs Xavier that Charles would stay at Netherfield that night; the same servant brought back fresh clothes for him, and showed him to a room of his own.

As he dressed for dinner, Charles despaired a little; he was already exhausted from his walk and still worried for Hank’s health. Of course, Logan was a cheerful and pleasant man, and his attentions to Hank were very reassuring. The prospect of an entire evening spent in the company of the unfriendly Mr Lensherr, however, filled him with a kind of dread; despite all his joking with Moira and the others, he still felt a little sting of resentment at Mr Lensherr’s cruel dismissal of him. Miss Frost could be a little disparaging at times, but Charles did reluctantly admire her sharp wit, and knew that he could deflect or return her cutting remarks well enough.

“At least,” Charles thought to himself, “as Mr Lensherr has already made it clear that I am not pleasing to look at, and frivolous besides, I need not worry about compromising his view of me. He is already decided in his opinion of me as an omega not worth his notice, so I am sure that I must be free to ignore him or antagonise him as I wish. I suppose it would be entertaining if I could provoke him into quarreling with me at dinner; and it would make an amusing story for Moira, too.”

Feeling heartened by the prospect of at least collecting an anecdote for his friend, and reminding himself that he was here for Hank’s benefit, Charles made his way downstairs. He was now firmly resolved to employ any means to enjoy, or at least endure, his evening with Mr Erik Lensherr.


	5. liked him too little to care for his approbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I'm very sick - too sick to work or study, for the next year or so at least. But I'm determined to keep updating, and I promise this work will be finished! I want to dedicate this chapter to DepravedWitch, for encouraging me and keeping me focused <3

 

“Mr Xavier will be joining us for dinner,” Logan said, coming into the room, and Erik realised he meant Charles. “I had to instruct the servants to give him some of your clothing; mine would be far too wide in the shoulders.”  
  
Erik felt his eyebrows rise, minutely. “I see.”

Logan clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for understanding; he’s anxious to stay with his brother, and I think Hank will find his presence comforting.”

“So it’s Hank, now, is it?” Erik asked, teasing a little but also genuinely wanting to know.

A little colour appeared on Logan’s cheeks (above the stubble – no matter how often Logan shaved, he always looked untidy again within a few hours).

“I find myself becoming very fond of him,” he replied simply.

Erik smiled, despite himself. _Perhaps I should not be so cynical_. Perhaps one of their party would make a happy match, at last.

They sat down to dinner at around six. Charles Xavier was seated across from him. Charles Xavier was, unmistakably, wearing Erik’s clothing. The dark blue shirt, which looked only passable on Erik, made Charles enchanting – the colour was beautiful with his eyes and complexion, and the shoulders and chest seemed a little too big on him, emphasising his slenderness. It was difficult not to stare.

 _For God's sake. Three weeks ago he was barely worth my notice. What has overcome me?_ Erik hastily sipped some wine and then hastily put his glass back down; it would not do to get drunk. His hands twitched in his lap. Mr Xavier was making him into a fidgeting wreck.

“We’ve hardly seen you, Mr Xavier,” Emma remarked. “Have you been nursing your brother all this time?”

“Yes, whenever he wakes,” said Charles. “I’ve been reading while he slept; Mr Howlett was kind enough to let me borrow from the books in there. You must have quite a library throughout the house, Logan.”

“I confess, it’s not a library I have much use for, myself, but an alpha who keeps a grand house is expected to have a grand library, and I inherited many books from my father. Erik reads, though, don’t you, Lensherr?”

“On occasion, yes,” Erik replied.

“I have borrowed a book by Sir James Edwards,” Charles said, looking across at Erik. “But I am sure you read far more intellectual works, Mr Lensherr.”

“On the contrary,” Erik was pleased to reply. “I enjoy any novel with spirited characters and evocative language.” He was gratified by a look of surprise on Charles’ face.

“I was happy to read a novel with a virtuous Alpha lead,” Charles remarked, recovering quickly.

 

 *****

 

Although Charles was enjoying antagonising Mr Lensherr, he could reluctantly admit that at times he also genuinely enjoyed the quality of their conversation. Mr Lenhsherr had proven himself to be very well-read; perhaps even better read than Jean. His taste was good, and he held opinions that he was ready to argue for and justify.

“I have heard that Mr Moreley is his own editor and publisher, and that’s why his novels run far too long,” Erik said, over their main course.

Brendan Moreley was a popular contemporary writer; Charles wondered at Erik's familiarity with a novelist considered by some to be common and unrefined.

“I enjoyed Cordelia,” Charles replied, referring to Moreley’s most recent novel – the story of a young omega pursued by an older Alpha woman. “I find it nice to have a book one can return to, again and again, of such great length that I might make it last a fortnight or more.”

“And do you enjoy serialized novels?” Erik asked.

 “Not at all,” Charles said, shaking his head vehemently and taking another drink. “It’s far too easy to misplace an issue, and besides, I don’t like being made to wait for things.” He smiled. “I rather prefer to take things when I want them, and in whichever quantity.”

“Then we are alike in that respect,” Erik replied. Their eyes met for a long moment.

Does he mean to remind me that I was not up to his standards? Charles wondered. But what would be the point?

“So you are not of the opinion that waiting for something can make its eventual arrival sweeter?”

“It would have to be a very great reward, to both hold my attention and maintain my patience,” Charles retorted.

Erik seemed to have no response to that.

Dinner passed quickly; when he was not talking with Erik, Charles was more than happy to answer all of Mr Howlett’s questions about Hank.

“And does your household have dogs?” enquired Logan.

“Yes. In fact, my brother keeps his own hounds,” Charles said.

“Truly?” Logan asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Unusual, I know, but Hank has rather an affinity with animals. He enjoys their company; he says they are simpler to understand than men.”

“I would say that Logan shares that sentiment,” Erik offered, smiling at his friend.

“I hope to introduce Henry to my horses, when he recovers,” Logan said.

“I am sure he would like that very much.” Charles reflected that Logan and Hank seem remarkably well-suited to each other; he did not want to let his optimism get the better of him, but he allowed himself some hope that they might make a match, in time.

Charles felt heartened to see the genuine friendship and affection between Mr Lensherr and Mr Howlett – well, heartened might not be the right word, but he was beginning to understand that perhaps, although Erik had unforgivably odious towards himself, Mr Howlett was not entirely unfortunate in having such a friend as Mr Lensherr.

 

“Would you be our fourth for quadrille, Mr Xavier?” Miss Frost asked him, with her bright, pretty smile, as they finished their meal.

Charles offered her what he hoped looked like a regretful smile. “I am not much one for gambling; I prefer chess.” This was an utter lie, but he was aware that the stakes Mr Howlett and Miss Frost would play for would surely far out of his modest budget.

“Chess?” Logan exclaimed. “Well, you will have to indulge Erik; he has had no worthy opponent since London. Neither Emma or I are any good at the game.”

“Oh.” Damn. Charles did enjoy chess – that part was not a lie – but he had rather hoped to return to his room, read a little, and retire early. Now he would have to spend even more time with Mr Lensherr. At least I might have the pleasure of besting him at his favourite pursuit, Charles thought to himself with a quiet smirk.

They play by the window; it was growing dark, now, but the sky was clear, and the stars were out.

“You have revealed yourself to be a very great reader,” Erik said, as they lined up their pieces.

“Surprised that an omega should have some intellectual substance?” Charles asked, archly.

“If it were a surprise, it would be a pleasant one,” Erik said, “but Logan’s ward Marie is a great reader, too, as well as an omega.” His grey eyes met Charles’.

“You will forgive me for assuming you to be judgemental,” Charles replied, taking one of Erik’s bishops.

Erik said nothing. Charles could not read his expression, but felt pleased to have reminded Erik of their first meeting. If he was to be forced by politeness to play chess with such a rude alpha, he might as well make him as uncomfortable as possible.

In time, Charles was surprised to discover that Erik seemed a very well-matched opponent for him in chess - neither superior nor inferior - and because of this, he found himself reluctantly enjoying the game. Hank was far too good at it for either of them to ever enjoy playing against each other, and Raven had no patience for it; nor did Moira.

If I cannot beat him by a great margin, perhaps I can irritate him in some other way, Charles thought to himself. “Not pretty enough to tempt me” was surely the remark of an alpha who had no care for the feelings or worth of omegas, and Erik must therefore, maybe, find autonomy and confidence repulsive in the fairer sex. Charles licked his lips, slowly and deliberately, tasting Mr Howlett’s expensive brandy, and looked up at Erik.

Erik raised his eyebrows, and Charles smiled to himself.

Good, Charles thought. Moira often teased him for being an idealist, for holding out for a love match rather than a marriage of money or convenience, but it meant at least that Charles was a well-practiced flirt. Meeting many alphas, being courted by some of them, and settling for none of them over the past few years had given him a wealth of knowledge.

Slowly, he unbuttoned the top button of his – Erik’s – shirt, and loosened his tie. “Do excuse me, Erik,” he said, careful to sound warm and familiar. “I find the room a little hot.”

“Of course,” Erik murmured. “I quite agree.” His eyes flickered to Charles' throat, where it was now visible.

They continued their game, Charles gaining a slight edge over Erik as they progressed, leaning much further over the board than necessary, allowing Erik to catch his scent. Upon his next turn, he sucked a finger into his mouth, feigning deep concentration as he peered at the board. When he finally moved a pawn and glanced up, Erik’s eyes were fixed on him.

“Hm?” Charles said, widening his eyes. “Oh. I quite apologise,” he said, taking his finger out of his mouth. "A dreadful habit, really. I don’t even notice I’m doing it,” he lied.

Erik’s eyes were slightly glazed as he lowered them and quite pointedly stared at the chess board.

I am sure he quite detests me, Charles thought, smug. Good. I hope I am irritating him enough to distract him from the game.

Just as Charles was about to take Erik’s queen, a servant entered, and immediately addressed Logan. “Mr Xavier’s fever has worsened,” he reported. “He is in quite some discomfort; I believe he has gone into heat.” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for being so so patient <3 I don't deserve readers like you guys <3 still very sick, but really determined to update more often.

Charles stood at once. “You are certain?”

The servant looked at him; Erik recognised him – his name was Proudstar, an omega male, just like Hank and Charles himself. “Quite, sir.”

It was dark outside; far too late now to summon Mrs Xavier. Erik had barely noticed the time pass.

“Damn,” Charles said under his breath.

Erik looked up and caught his eye, but Charles said nothing, too distracted.

“Make him as comfortable as you possibly can,” Logan ordered.

“I should go to him,” Charles said, already moving away from the table. “Please excuse me.”

Erik stood too, in order to be polite; he looked over at Logan, but Logan’s gaze was downcast, frowning.

The door all but slammed as Charles followed the servant out; clearly he was anxious for his brother.

“You can’t go to him,” Emma said as soon as the door was closed. “The only way it would be appropriate is if you were engaged.” She paused. “And you are not.”

Logan’s lips were pursed. Erik knew that face; he was holding back a snarl. Emma was an icy little omega with faultless self-control; Logan’s blood ran much hotter, and his temper, if ever provoked, was more than a little fierce.

“Logan,” Emma said quietly. “This could very well be a ploy –“

Logan threw up a hand, cutting her off. “ _No_ , Emma,” he growled. “I have no wish to speak on it any longer. I have no desire to hear you cast aspersions on Henry Xavier while he is in even the slightest discomfort, while he is _my_ guest, and vulnerable besides.” He drew a cigar from his pocket and held it between his teeth, lighting it with his steel striker. He offered another to Erik, and Erik accepted.

Emma sniffed. “Well, I won’t discard my suspicions simply because you are infatuated. Someone needs to be level-headed in this house.”

Erik raised his eyebrows at her, meaning, _leave Logan alone til tomorrow at least_.

She pouted. “I suppose you have no objections to the Xaviers throwing themselves at Logan, since you have changed your opinion over a shapely body and a pair of fine eyes.”

“Charles is nothing to me,” Erik said, before he could stop himself. It was an instinct, to be defensive with Emma. “I thought you liked Henry Xavier.”

“Oh, he is a sweet boy, certainly,” she replied, “but he is not.... _well-bred_. None of them are, and this is merely a pathetic attempt at entrapment. I've had enough of them."

 

~     ~     ~

 

“I’m fine, Charles,” Hank said, eyes closed, gripping Charles’ hand.

“You look dreadful,” Charles told him. It was true. Hank was drenched in sweat, skin flushed pink above the collar of his nightshirt.

“It’s not so bad, it’s bearable,” Hank replied, opening his eyes a little. “It’ll be done by tomorrow. Raven and I never have it as bad as you, anyway.”

This was true. Both Raven and Henry Xavier seemed to have a different biological makeup to their brother; their bodies took change much easier, could go from one state to another and back without real struggle, even if the heat itself was unpleasant. Charles found it harder. Mental and emotional strife he seemed more capable of handling; Raven sometimes knocked on his head jokingly and asked, “how do you keep it all in there?” Hank was patient, but not so much with children, and when he was provoked (rarely) into anger, he seemed almost a different person. Raven could go from effusive and gleeful to petulant with little prompting. Charles stayed measured, patience boundless even with children, and was ever seeking to be a peacemaker; ever seeking, too, to intuit the emotions of others, to better understand every person who crossed his path.

 _You’ll make a wonderful parent_ , everyone always told him. _The heats are awful but someday they’ll be worth it_.

“I hope it does pass soon,” Charles said, returning his gaze to Hank, having been lost in thought for a moment.

“It will, they’re always short. Besides,” Hank said, looking up at him, blue eyes full of humour, “my sore throat’s disappeared.”

Charles laughed despite himself.

“You should go to bed,” Hank told him, earnest. “I’ll be fine, there are servants. I feel terrible to be relying on Logan’s hospitality.”

“Don’t,” Charles said, smoothing his brother’s hair back. “He’s more than happy to have you.”

Hank smiled a little. “He is a good man.” Neither of them said more; neither needed to. Hank’s quiet affection for Mr Howlett had been clear for some time.

“I will leave you to rest,” Charles said eventually. “And Hank, don’t hesitate to have a servant wake me if you need me.”

“Of course,” Hank replied.

“I mean it,” Charles said, sternly. “You presume too often that you shouldn’t bother others. But we want to be bothered, Hank.” He was struck by how young his brother looked, without his glasses and laid up like an invalid, hair falling out of place. Hank was 19 now – with an impressive intellect, to be sure, but still the bashful manner of a younger omega (a shyness which seemed to have left Charles much earlier and bypassed Raven entirely).

“I will bother you if I need you,” Hank said, sincerely. “I can’t wait to be out of bed again. In the fresh air.”

“I’m sure,” Charles replied. “You’d make much better use than me of the weather today; I’ve been inside playing chess with Mr Lensherr.”

“You might at least call him Erik,” Hank teased, voice a little weak.

Charles shook his head. “So far he has proved himself to be perhaps tolerable in small amounts, and maybe not unintelligent, but nothing close to likeable. _Not pleasant enough to tempt me_ ,” he mocked, and Hank laughed.

“I exaggerate,” Charles admitted; “he has been surprisingly pleasant, considering our small history. I have not been unhappy while you’ve recovered.”

“I’m glad,” Hank said, yawning.

“You must rest, if you can,” Charles told him. “I’ll have a message sent home now, and I am sure Mother will come as soon as she can in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Hank said, with a soft smile. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Hank. Good luck.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hank repeated, “it will be over soon enough.”

 _He is much stronger than me_ , Charles thought, as he left. _To endure a heat unexpected, and not even in the comfort of my own home; I would be screaming the place down in frustration_.

 

~        ~        ~

 

In the morning Charles was invited downstairs to take tea and breakfast with Miss Frost.

Logan came in almost as soon as they were seated. “How is Henry?” he asked immediately. “I hope you did not find him worse than you expected. Is he doing tolerably?”

“He seems likely to be… recovered by this evening,” Charles said, struggling to find the appropriate word. “He has been made most comfortable; I really must thank you again for your hospitality.” He had found Hank half asleep, and damp with sweat, but coping with his symptoms admirably.

 Logan’s hair was a little curly today, escaping its pomade. He was a handsome man, Charles reflected; strong-jawed and broad-shouldered. He was a man of few words, but Charles had observed him a little over the last few days, and found that Logan was genuinely likable. He was frequently smoking, and had thick forearms, dusted with dark hair; a strong alpha, able to protect and provide for an omega. Like Hank, he seemed the type to be happy enough in his own company.

Charles was hesitant to presume or hope too much, but they seemed like they could be an excellent match – if Logan could get past this incredibly ill-timed heat of Hank’s, which it seemed he could. How awful for Hank, to endure a heat while surely suffocating under the scent of an alpha he desired but could not touch. Unpleasant for both of them, Charles was sure.

“Your mother has been summoned, I assume?” Miss Frost asked, immaculate as usual.

“Yes,” Charles said, “I wrote to her last night; I expect her within the hour.”

“Very good,” said Logan. He had a gruff, gravelly way of speaking, but was doubtlessly sincere. Truly, Charles could not imagine him to ever be deceitful. Mr Lensherr was a little different – cold, at times, and certainly not a _gregarious_ alpha, but perhaps not insincere either. It was Miss Emma Frost who presented the unpredictable factor, in this social game they were playing.

Sighing, Charles steeled himself for his mother’s visit.

 

~        ~        ~

 

“Perhaps he ought to stay until tomorrow,” said Raven earnestly, blonde curls coming untucked from her bonnet. “Don’t you think, Mama?”

“Certainly,” Mrs Xavier agreed, sipping her tea. “Perhaps even til Thursday.” Now that she was assured that her son would be well again soon, her concern was replaced by a desire to prolong his stay in whichever way possible.

Logan seemed more than happy to agree with her. “I would not hear of him being removed until he is absolutely recovered. I am sure my sister-in-law will agree.”

Emma offered a cold smile. “Of course. Henry has all my sympathies.”

Charles fought against his indignation at the tone she took; it would not do to let his emotions get the better of him (an omega stereotype which he utterly, utterly despised, and had always been determined to disprove through his own behaviour).

“You are so kind to take care of him,” their mother continued. “He is lucky to have such good friends, for I fear his health is always compromised at the most inconvenient of times –” here Charles saw Emma made a contemptuous face “ – although I declare he is always vastly patience when he is indisposed. He has the sweetest temper, you know, Mr Howlett; I am forever telling my other two children to follow his example.”

Raven scowled; Charles bit his tongue. Logan smiled. Not the polite smile of a host, but the genuine smile of one hearing something commedatory about someone beloved. Charles saw this, and was gratified.

“It is a beautiful room which you have put Henry in,” Mrs Xavier said; “the view over the drive is quite lovely. You must be pleased, Mr Howlett, with Netherfeild.

“Indeed, it is a beautiful place. I love it as much as I love the city; I daresay I could not choose between them,” Logan replied. “I confess I have been known to quit one for the other at a moment’s notice; but for the meantime, I am happy here.”

“Well certainly you have to stay in town long enough to give a dance,” Raven said, almost bouncing out of her seat. “The officers are in town for another fortnight! And I know you are friendly with them, as you dined with them not two days ago.”

Logan regarded her with amusement. “I will certainly hold a ball, but only Henry is recovered enough to dance with me.”

Raven and their mother were delighted by this answer; Charles was too preoccupied in wishing that the two of them would show a little more tact, if only for Hank’s sake.

And I am sure I can happily live without another evening where I attempt to enjoy myself without Mr Lensherr standing in the corner like some arrogant spectre, Charles thought to himself, crossly. Although last night he proved almost good company. Perhaps he will admit I have some intellectual merit, even if he does not think me sufficiently _pretty_.

Between Emma’s coldness, his sister’s forwardness and his mother’s transparency in her desire to have Hank and Logan in the same vicinity, Charles had had enough, and excused himself as soon as his mother made any mention of leaving. Claiming a headache, he made his way from the parlour to the same drawing room where the four of them had spent the previous evening.

 

~        ~      ~

 

Erik had chosen not to meet with Miss and Mrs Xavier, instead making some vague excuse. He already found Henry’s family intolerable (excluding Charles, perhaps), and had no wish to see Logan brave them, or Emma toy with them, like a cat with oblivious mice.

He was at the window writing to Janos when Charles Xavier burst into the room. _Does he intend to make a habit of throwing open doors when I am entirely unprepared for him_ , Erik wondered.

“Will you do me the service of distracting me?” Charles asked, cheeks flushed.

Erik hastily gathered his thoughts. “Certainly. Shall we finish our game?”

Charles smiled; a strained, brief smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Please.”

They went together to the chess board, and made their first few moves each in silence.

Charles was chewing at his lower lip, looking not at all coy but truly distracted.

“You are distressed,” Erik observed, and immediately cursed himself for how stiff he sounded.

Charles huffed out a breath, and met his eyes. “Yes, I - I find myself anxious. About Hank – Henry’s situation. And about everything surrounding it.” He blinked.

“You are free to call him by his familiar name,” Erik said. “Logan has adopted it.”

Charles did smile, then, bright-eyed and undeniably pretty.

He does not wish to observe that they are becoming close, Erik thought, for fear that he might somehow jeopardise it. And I can hardly make the observation myself; it would not do to give too much away. There is nothing less decorous than a hasty courtship.

“So how do you know Mr Howlett,” Charles asked, after a minute.

“Truthfully, we were the only ones in our circle of acquaintances that the other could bear, when we were young.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Neither of us were particularly sociable, and our arguments did lead us to blows at times, before we learned to control our tempers and agreed to be friends. He likes to say that we are two lone wolves forced together for want of better company,” Erik said, smiling despite himself.

“And Miss Frost?”

“We met her when she was engaged to Logan’s brother, Victor. She was widowed not long after their marriage, and we absorbed her into our circle. She is good for Logan – she manages the house well, she manages everything to do with society. She is a singular woman. We were instantly attracted to each other – in a purely platonic sense,” he hastened to clarify, “which surely you have observed.”

Charles smirked. “You do share certain similarities. I confess sometimes I forget she is not an alpha.”

Amused, Erik met Charles’ eye. “She is not, by any means, a timid or submissive woman.”

Charles raised his eyebrows and made a face of agreement. Erik felt a sense of victory.

Their conversation came easier after that, but by dinnertime Erik could not have recalled a thing they’d said. His attention had been occupied by Charles’ voice – pleasant, soft, but strong – and by his remarkable eyes. And his hands, deft and slender, often almost within reach of Erik’s.  

 

 

After dinner, Charles and Henry Xavier were finally gone, sent home in Logan’s best carriage, pulled by Logan’s best horses, farewelled by Logan himself.

Emma  was talking about how she was thinking of returning to London “just for a change. Just for something else to do; it’s boring here. We’ll never convince Janos to come and enjoy the countryside,” she said with a pointed little sniff, making it clear that the countryside and its lifestyle offered little to her either. “I’d dearly love to see him again.”

These sweet tones didn’t work on Erik, but they still had a little of a sisterly charm for Logan. Logan was a softer alpha than Erik; not necessarily _good_ with omegas and children, but willing to try – willing to be cheerful and sociable, at least sometimes, and genuinely mean it; willing to listen to Emma.

“I’m going out,” Logan said. “My mare needs her legs stretched, I’ll take her now.”

Erik smirked to himself; that was one method of avoiding Emma for the evening.

Idly, he wondered if Emma would ever settle down. He loved her very much, loved her ambition; loved how cruel she could be, when their eyes met and they shared an unkind thought; loved how relentless she was, for an omega. Yes, he loved her; but the only people who had ever expected he and Emma to make a match were people who didn’t know them at all.

Logan wasn’t unkind, just often uninterested, apathetic; his gruffness could come off as impolite, so he would always try his hardest. Emma had taught him to have a pleasant countenance, to smile whenever possible. “Stop _scowling_ , both of you.” And now the Xavier boy – Henry Xavier – _Hank_ – making Logan soft-eyed and endlessly agreeable. _How much more difference will come to be between us_ , Erik thought. 

Emma was amused by the way Charles had caught his attention after his initial declaration of indifference, but she treated it like a game; she had always had bigger things in mind for him. “You must make an illustrious match,” she said to him in her sugar-sweet voice, catching him by the door before he retired. “Logan is a wild beast, he does what he wants and damn what society thinks, but you at least will be respectable.” She smoothed his hair back. “I know it, Erik. You belong with someone regal, a worthy match, sweetheart, not a muddy little urchin of an omega like Charles. We’ve had our fun in this quaint little place. Soon we’ll be back in the city. You can leave him behind.”

 

When Erik came into his room, he saw that the blue shirt was folded & laid on his bed.

He picked up the shirt; it still smelled faintly of Charles, though it had been washed. He held it up to his face, pressed his lips to it, inhaled deeply. Erik had never scented an omega, never been so far into a courtship - or even in a courtship at all. Even this was enough to make him feel something, in his throat, in his chest.  He inhaled again, hungrily. _Charles_.

“What are you doing, Lensherr,” he asked himself softly. “No Xavier is destined to be your husband. Forget this madness. Let him go.”

Charles had been polite enough these past few days – indeed, even a pleasant change of company. Erik cursed himself for being so quick to judge. Not handsome enough to tempt me, he had said, and yet. Charles had matched him at chess, had proven himself well-read and insightful; Erik had even enjoyed their conversation, instead of “sulking in the corner,” as Emma claimed he was often wont to do.

But there would be other omegas. There always were. Certainly, Charles’ father was a gentleman, but Erik could make a better match; Emma was determined for him to make a better match. There would be someone in London better suited to him, he told himself. They would not be here forever; in fact, he could leave on his own, if he liked. He could go back to London, drink whiskey, play cards with Janos.

He could leave Charles Xavier here in Westchester, if he wanted, and never think of him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sean! And Moira again <3 and Azazel. 
> 
> [Also, next chapter will be rated "Explicit".] 
> 
> Comments are SO appreciated, they really help me keep my energy up for writing!!!!!
> 
> If you're on tumblr, come follow me, I'm at avacynner.tumblr.com  
> I post lots of Charles/Erik pics and also hot naked guys who look like Charles and Erik ^_^


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